Beloved Sister
by Puru
Summary: They say love is the true derivative of madness. In a home where she was his everything - in a world where only she understood him, a place in which monsters seemed far less abhorrent and laughter danced with murder - it was no wonder that he grew to love her. She recognized the frailties of the human condition. She accepted. She knew what he was. And she loved him all the same.


She stood in the doorway while he held a bloodied butcher's blade over a mutilated corpse. Frozen. It was horror that paralyzed him. Not the fear of being caught or having to explain himself or even the consequences that were sure to follow. The truth was that _she_ had found him. In this newly found freedom, violent and crimson stained, only just when he was feeling relief from the chains of his life. If it could have only been anyone but her, he would have taken all the blame, shame and punishment he deserved. But why did it have to be so?

When he realized that he had stopped breathing, he let out a strangled gasp and averted his eyes from hers. Gazing over anything and everything in the dark but her. It was just easier. Her eyes were burning into him and he couldn't stand it. Now that she had seen, that she knew the truth of what he was, she would become just like everyone else. His beloved older sister would reject him out of fear and disgust. He would lose the only person who had ever shown him any true love and devotion.

The light from the moon outside vanished. He looked up just in time to see her shut it before the darkness settled around them. Heard the lock creak as she bolted it shut. No crickets or animals of the night were out to break the silence. Nothing but the sound of his own beating heart filled his ears. He waited. Each passing second felt heavier than the last.

Her faint outline was realized by his eyes. He was used to being in the dark and it was not difficult for him to make out shapes, human or otherwise, any more. What surprised him was the sound of her footsteps drawing nearer as she walked towards him. Slow at first and then faster and the next thing he knew her arms were around him. It took him a beat to realize that she was shaking, just slightly. So she was afraid of him? The instrument of choice he'd used to cut open the body on the wooden table fell from his grasp and to the dirt floor. There were no words he could say to apologize. He knew it was bound to happen. He had no experience. He had expected this. Disgust, hate, revulsion of his very existence. Her breath coursed over his ear as she whispered, "This isn't how you do it, Ruben."

He had anticipated everything _but_ that.

And suddenly all his anxiety was gone. Catharsis washed through him and all the weight imposing upon him lifted. The feeling moved him to tears. Just quietly. Silently she held him for a few minutes as he wrapped his arms around her in response, effectively sharing his burden with her. Until his small cries managed to get under control, she remained as his embracer. When finally his own shaking ceased, she let him go leaving her hands on his shoulders. Even in such darkness, he could make out the slight glint in her eyes from the moon reaching to her between cracks in the barn walls.

"You need to clean up before father gets home."

She said it with a strange authority that he instinctively understood. He had to go so that she could deal with what she had found. Even though he had planned for no one to have found him, even though he had thought he'd had enough time, he had been wrong. With a self-disappointed rub of his damp right eye, he gave her a nod and headed for the barn door. As he pulled the bolt back to unlock it, she called out to him:

"Don't come back. Stay inside. I'll find you."

The tap water was needles against his cold skin. Winter's bitterness was but weeks away. Still, it could not hinder the undying need he had. As the blood ran off his hands, he half-wondered where their mother was. He had assumed she was sleeping. Could his assumption have been wrong? After all, his sister was still awake at such an hour. His dreary eyes reflected an alleviated anxiety replaced with new misery. Thanks to his actions, his sister was now a part of it. His illusion of the quiet younger brother had been abashed all in one evening. An evening that had begun in glorious bloodshed.

His attire he let crumple to the floor as he soaked himself in the steaming depths of the bath. Taking a breath, he descended beneath its top and let the blood coat the water. Coming back up for air, he could smell the blood as if it were frying. Sickly, putrid and lovely it was to him. All his senses on edge and lost in the intoxicated relaxation of it all, he forgot momentarily that his sister was coming for him. There were no words he could find as the droplets of both water and blood crept down his face. Peace.

When at last his skin was free of all red, he released himself from the water's grasp. A fine night robe hung on the back of the door. Slipping into it he found his muscles tired, his mind exhausted. Sanctity of sleep beckoned him down the hall but he could not follow its voice. Instead, he stood half-dripping in his white robe staring down at the mess of red-stained clothes he had discarded. It felt as if he had stepped out of someone else's skin entirely. This was normal. After any of his violent transgressions, the feeling – the need – vanished and he was left with the strange sensation that a part of him had walked comfortably back into its cage.

His head rose at the sound of gentle steps in the hall. He knew by the grace and speed of the steps that it could be none other than his sister. Making no move to hide the splattered clothes, he greeted her entrance into the bathing room with a soft, genuine smile. It was automatic. Whenever he saw her in all her magnificence he couldn't help but grin for the sake of appreciating such beauty. She merely stepped in, bent to pick up the pile of clothing and exited with him following behind her like a wandering ghost.

At first, he wondered just how she would wash and dry all of it before anyone suspected anything. It had always been a challenge for him. To his profound bafflement, she entered the sitting room, pulled back the fireplace grate and tossed the garments atop the firewood. With swift locking of the grate, she straightened herself and turned to face him. Her dark tresses hung like inviting ribbons, framing her perfectly sculpted face. She extended a hand out to him and he took it. The two of them then stood and watched the fabric burn away in utter silence.

They burnt away to ashes faster than he had foreseen. Fascinating. At his young age, he was still open to all the world's mysteries even so much as to be amazed by something as simple as cloth burning. Even still, he fancied a glance at his sister once just to see if he could reach some level of comprehension for her metal state. Her face was almost impassive. He had not seen her like this before, but he considered the circumstances and swallowed an inquiry for her well-being. When the fire resumed its dull consumption of firewood, she tugged on his hand as a means to express desire that he go with her.

She guided him down the intricate halls of their family estate without stopping. Despite the lit candles, there was hardly any light to aid their night escapade to what he was sure was her bedroom. His guess was confirmed true when she pushed on the large oak door and released his hand. He stood there for a moment, observing as she shut the door and faced him. A candle lamp stood proud at her bedside table, giving the two of them enough light to make out one another's facial expressions. While hers was on the more serious side, the kindness that he was so used to had returned to her eyes. With the near angelic tone of hers she simply said, "Sit."

He obeyed without hesitation, situating himself comfortably on the left side of her bed. "Laura-"

"Don't." They held each other's gaze in the room's dimness for two heartbeats before she spoke again. "Who was that young boy?"

"What did you do with him?"

"Tell me, Ruben."

He hesitated then, not because he didn't want to tell her but for the anxiety of the multiple responses she could've had if he answered. "I told mother I wanted to study at home. She didn't listen, Laura! I-" Words failed him. Out loud, it all sounded ridiculous. But inside – inside it all made a wondrous sense.

"Did he hurt you?"

Nothing but questions. Supposition that this was the appropriate response battled with the odd urge to have her be overcome with fury amongst the walls of his mentality. "Not in the same way father does." The flicker of despair that passed across her features made him hurry on. "But that's not why! I just-! I… I couldn't…"

He didn't know how to explain the overpowering possession that had taken hold of his very existence. The vile shadow that had silenced rational thought and awakened beastly motivation. A yearning for control over those with less intelligence, less worth, who wasted their lives pursuing the breakdown of the weaker physicality. How the genius within him, the supreme intelligence, could not withstand the pressures of a youthful body or the powerlessness of his age. What it felt to have terror-stricken eyes, wide and gaping up at him, with screams for mercy. To hold the life of another in his hands – to take it – in all its violent brutality. Violence and maiming had given him a release unlike no other. And amongst it all, the enlightenment and absorption of the frailty of humanity. It was absurd for him to hope that he could convey with spoken word the true depth of these sensations.

Perhaps it was thus that caused him to bow his head in defeat. For all his intellect, he knew not how to express himself to his sister. Not with such a matter. There was no hope for it. And yet, the nearness of his sister as she took her place beside him filled him with perplexing sanguinity. She took his hand in her own and held it for a time. Silence was something that had rested not only on them, but the entire estate more often than either of them would have liked. Still, it was preferred to the violence the walls around them kept shadowed from the world outside.

"I want you to go rest now," she said finally with a soft pat on the back of his hand, "I have a decision to make Ruben."

He did not ask what it was. His young mind was already well aware. As he left her room, he could almost hear her thoughts as if they were his own. _My poor brother. What can I do to help you?_ Entering the darkness of his own room, he disregarded any need for light and merely slipped in between his bed sheets. Once again, she had come to his aid. In a perverse way, she had saved him from a potentially horrid reveal of his secret activities from their parents – simply by being the one who had found him. While on one hand this thought pleased him, he couldn't help but feel her anguish creeping up beside him as he laid staring up at the ceiling above. She knew his secret now. Had informed him he had erred as if to suggest that _she_ knew better. A simple phrase as if to indicate that _she_ had performed just as monstrous deeds. In other words, the only logical conclusion he could come to was that she had to decide whether or not to guide him in his ways or betray him to their parents.

He rolled himself on his side to gaze out at the moon filtering through his window, knowing without any disquiet what her choice would be. However, his last thoughts before the world of dreams swallowed him up were of the unfortunate burden that he had placed upon his dear sister.

 **xXxXx**

"Ruben, come away from the piano."

His fingers froze over the keys. "Yes, mother."

"Now, Ruben." As he moved to slide himself off the bench she tsk-tsked. "You know your father doesn't tolerate this sort of behavior."

"Mother," Laura's voice floated down the stairs as she descended as sweet and gentle as ever, "Father isn't home. You can allow him to play for now, can't you?"

"Good morning, Laura." Their mother crossed her arms, trying to remain locked in her decision, but Laura held much more power over her than anyone else did. Ruben had always envied how well she could manipulate not only their mother, but their father as well. "I do believe this is between your father and Ruben. I cannot allow it until he says otherwise."

He bowed his head in submission to the authority of his father's presence. In his peripheral vision, he saw Laura smile ever so brilliantly and take one of their mother's aging hands in her own. "Oh please, mother. Ruben sounds so wonderful when he plays."

A cascade of pride made Ruben sit a little straighter. For a second, he wished nothing more than to turn his back on them both and play – just for her. He refrained. His mother is eyed Laura with bitter reluctance. "Laura, you know the piano is for you. Your father doesn't want Ruben-"

Laura tilted her head back and let out a cheerful laugh. "What is Ruben going to do, mother? His fingers won't break the piano in two."

She sighed, her resolve softening and face brightening – even if minimally. Laura's charming aura often had that effect on others. "Laura-"

"Mrs. Victoriano," one of their butlers stood in the hall frame-way to their right, "You have a visitor."

"Dear me." Their mother let out a heavy sigh. "Do bring them in. The weather is quite dreadful today."

The butler bowed and left the three family members alone again in the silence. Ruben looked to the window and saw his mother's words prove true. Rain beat against the glass in a mad fury. A part of him wished to be out there in the insanity of the storm. To bring Laura with him and just run. His eyes fell back on the piano keys and he reminded himself to be wary of reality.

Laura left her mother and situated herself down beside Ruben. Their mother called out her name as a warning, to which Laura glanced back over her shoulder with a daring smile. She let her fingers began to stroke the keys, a soft sweet melody echoing through the room. Ruben just watched as her slender fingers moved about the keys. An artist with immense talent, she was. He wished to be able to play as well as she did – or even better – so that he could play her music just as lovely as the pieces she played. Even their mother silenced her protest and he imagined she was standing where Laura left her, just as enchanted by her playing as he was.

She switched to a tune he recognized and she gave him a little nudge. Ruben's fingers joined hers amongst the keys and the union of strokes is blissful. Together, they created a marvelous symphony. Little touches of musical gentleness mixed with fast strokes of agony. The two of them are absorbed in their world together. His fingers brushed hers and hers, his. He sensed her smile – her pride at being able to play such music with her brother. He feels overwhelmed by the moment, but what drives the overpowering emotions – he is not sure. All he knew was that then – beside his sister – he was able to create something beautiful.

"Ah, Beatriz! How lovely your children play!"

Laura's playing halted at the sound of the voice. She and Ruben turned to look at its source and saw the butler give his leave. The visitor that had come to their estate was none other than Dr. Jimenez from the Beacon Mental Hospital. He gave their mother's hand a kiss on back of her right hand. She was delighted. Ruben has always been attuned to his sister's shifts in thoughts based on the feel of her aura. At the current time, he was particularly aware of her revulsion. The two siblings left the piano behind and stood, as courtesy was due – and went to their mother's side. Laura stood just a step in front of Ruben. Her position gave Ruben pause to wonder why the doctor upset her so much.

"Laura! Ruben! Lovely to see you again!"

"It's a little early for house calls, don't you think Marcelo?"

Her voice is tender but Ruben heard the resentment buried in her words. "Laura, mind your manners." Their mother scolded. "Dr. Jimenez is here to see me."

This was news to Ruben. His eyes absorbed the state of his mother and he could not understand why she would want to see a doctor. While she was an older woman, she was not by any means fragile or even slightly ill. Puzzled, he looked to Laura's face for some sort of answer. Her eyes burned but her expression was apologetic. "Forgive me," she said, "I am just tired."

"Not sleeping well?" The doctor sounded concerned for her. Ruben felt as though Laura believed it was all an act. He couldn't understand why, but that had happened with him and his sister for years. He knew her. He knew her more and better than anyone else ever would. Suddenly Ruben wished the doctor would leave so his happy sister could return. "Perhaps I can-"

"Just one sleepless night, doctor." She took Ruben's hand then and her grip was tighter than usual. "Mother, we'll leave you two be."

Their mother smiled and called after them to be back down in an hour for tea as the siblings made their way down another hallway. Dr. Jimenez called something after them as well – Ruben thought he heard his own name but Laura's pace is too fast for him to slow down and catch the rest of what he said. It took him a moment to realize where his sister was taking him. As they wound through the corridors of the mansion, they passed by many different servants, maids and butlers splattered out against background of drapes, tables and hanging photographs. When they reached the library she let go of his hand, turned around and shut the door.

Ruben stood there, trying to read his sister. Laura faced him and gave him a lipped smile. "Ruben, can you promise me something?" She asked.

"Anything, Laura."

She went to Ruben, bringing him close to her, kissing the top of his head and then held him. He gingerly embraced her back as she whispered through his pale blonde hair, "Promise me you'll never trust that man."

A pause. Outside a clap of thunder sounded and there was a flash of lightning. "I promise."

He felt the tension leave her body. "Thank-you, Ruben." She let him go enough so that the two of them could look at each other. She bent her back a little, hands on his shoulders, so that they were eye-level and gave him a smile that would have sent any man's heart racing. "I'll do everything I can to protect you. You're all I have."

Her hands moved from Ruben's shoulders to either side of his face. When another flash of lightning brightens the dim candle-lit room, he thought he saw her eyes shining. He hadn't seen her cry in years. This unsettled him. He wanted to throw his arms around her and make her feel better. He didn't. Instead he asked, "What am I going to do?"

"Oh Ruben," she said, "You'll learn."


End file.
